


Irresistible

by Aegwynn



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft (Comics), World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23650918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aegwynn/pseuds/Aegwynn
Summary: There were few things Arator Windrunner couldn’t resist, and he knew he was in trouble the moment he realised that Aethas Sunreaver was one of them.
Relationships: Arator the Redeemer/Aethas Sunreaver
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	Irresistible

Arator sighed and stared longingly out the window again, too distracted to focus on translating the text on the desk in front of him. He’d been staring at the same passage for nearly an hour, but each time he turned his attention back to the runes on the page, it seemed they said something entirely different and he had to start over again.

It was a beautiful day in Dalaran – too beautiful, he thought, to be hidden away in the library when he could be on a terrace, sipping a cocktail and lounging on a chaise. What a gift it would be to chase away the afternoon that way, without a care in the world; to get lost in the languid warmth of the summer sun and pass the time in laughter with someone animated and vivacious, whose mere presence was enough to lift his spirits and make him forget his worries.

Someone, he thought, like Aethas Sunreaver.

Arator’s heart sank. The mage hadn’t called on him since they’d said their goodbyes – multiple times – the morning after their heated encounter. At first, he’d told himself that maybe Aethas was just busy; the Kirin Tor were working hard to safeguard the relics and spoils of the Legionfall campaign, and no doubt they needed his expertise. But as another day passed without contact, and then another, he began to worry that he had completely misunderstood the night they’d shared together.

He silently cursed himself for it. Arator wasn’t normally one to lose himself on a flight of fancy, but then again, there was little about his life now that felt normal at all. Everything had changed with his parents’ return – his responsibilities, his routine, his status within the paladin order, even his own self-estimation. When he looked in the mirror, he sometimes felt he barely knew himself at all.

But Aethas – Aethas had made him feel _wanted_ , seen; had made him come alive in ways he hadn’t experienced in years. With Aethas, he hadn’t been the son of two legendary heroes. He had just been Arator, plain and simple, and Aethas had wanted him like that… or at least it had seemed so, until the silence began to stretch on and on.

He stared back down at the runes again. Now they were skittering across the page, shimmering beneath his fingers as he tried to focus on a pair of runes that modified the passage.

Another sigh. It was going to be a long afternoon.

“I thought I might find you here.”

The sound of that voice sent a thrill up Arator’s spine. He froze, not daring even to breathe as he set a ribbon to mark his place in the tome in front of him and slowly turned to look behind him.

Standing there, almost as though he had summoned him, was Aethas Sunreaver.

The mage was wearing formal robes today – flattering gold and crimson – and he looked almost regal as he stepped into the alcove where Arator was working in the shadow of two tall bookshelves. Instinctively, Arator smoothed the front of his own robe and rose to his feet, unable to fight the blush rising in his cheeks as he met Aethas’ gaze.

The pair stared at each other for a moment as Arator tried (and failed) to think of something to say. Suddenly the space between the bookshelves felt quite small.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Aethas said finally, eyes dancing as he approached Arator. He moved slowly, almost gracefully as he trailed a finger over the leather-bound spines of the books on the shelf. “I had half a mind to journey all the way to Light’s Hope if it meant I might find you there.”

So he _had_ been looking for him; Arator’ blush deepened. The morning after their encounter, they had shared a long, lingering kiss on the front step of Aethas’ flat, and Arator had been too afraid to ask when they could meet again. It would be desperate, he had reasoned then, and so he had resolved to wait.

He hadn’t even considered that _he_ was the one who knew where Aethas lived, and that he therefore knew perfectly well where to find the mage if he wished to see him again.

“I – I’m sorry,” he stammered, trying to take a step backward and bumping into the desk. The ridge of the window casement cut into his back as he hit the wall, and he let out a small gasp. “I guess – I mean, I didn’t – ”

Aethas merely smiled, cocking his head to the side as he regarded Arator with a fascination that would have seemed predatory if it weren’t so incredibly charming. He both hated and loved the smile that crept across Aethas’ lips as his eyes raked over his body, and with each advancing step Aethas took, Arator found his knees growing weaker and weaker, until he had to grip the table behind him for support.

“Thankfully,” Aethas said, coming to a stop with barely a foot between them, “Modera told me she had seen you in the library today. Naturally, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to come say hello.”

“Naturally,” Arator echoed. _Couldn’t resist_. There were few things Arator couldn’t resist, and he knew he was in trouble the moment he realised that Aethas was one of them. The mage was close, so close – close enough that Arator caught the scent of woodsmoke that seemed to follow Aethas around. He breathed it in like sacred incense, a dizzying aroma that left him feeling lightheaded as Aethas closed the final distance between them with a kiss that had all the urgency and need that Arator had been fantasising about since the moment he’d stepped off the porch.

Arator sighed softly as he parted his lips to invite the delicate touch of Aethas’ tongue, his arms sliding around the mage’s neck as he relaxed into him and gave himself over to the desire that had been threatening to devour him for days. When Aethas broke the kiss, Arator immediately went in for another, prompting a gentle chuckle from the mage as he slid his hands along Arator’s waist.

“I see you missed me,” he said, and his breath was warm against Arator’s neck as he placed a series of kisses along the paladin’s jaw line. Arator could do nothing except whimper and brace himself against the wall, twining his fingers through Aethas’ hair as he sighed happily.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me,” he admitted, and Aethas nuzzled his neck.

“After a night like that?” Aethas chuckled. “You’re more addictive than arcane magic.”

The grin that spread across Arator’s lips was euphoric, but his eyes snapped open at the mention of magic. The tome he had been trying to translate was nested beneath his thigh, an uncomfortable reminder that he had come to the library to finish his research, not to lose himself like a silly adolescent… as much as it pained him to admit it.

“Speaking of arcane magic,” he said sheepishly, “I was working on something before you distracted me.”

Aethas pressed a kiss to Arator’s neck and stepped back, leaving his arms looped around the paladin’s waist as he smiled. “Well, don’t let me stop you,” he said, but his hands slid further south, one snaking over the back of Arator’s thigh to cup his ass, the other sliding down to grope his half-hard cock through his robe.

Arator clenched his eyes shut and prayed to the Light for the fortitude he needed to keep his wits about him, even as Aethas dragged a fingernail overtop the fabric concealing his cock. It was stiffening by the second. “Please, I mean it. We can’t – ”

“Then tell me to stop,” Aethas murmured against his neck, smoothing his hands over Arator’s hips again as he nipped at the tender flesh of his earlobe. “I don’t think you want me to.”

The mage was right about that much; Arator didn’t want him to stop, but it also occurred to him that the library was a public place, and the last thing he wanted was to be caught here, now, semi-hard and wanting _in public_ when he should be completing a translation for the conclave this evening.

A moan rose unbidden to his lips as he pushed Aethas away, and he tried desperately to choke it down. “The Highlord requested this,” he said, tapping the book that lay open on the desk. “I have to finish it before vespers.”

Aethas, however, was undeterred. “How disappointing,” he said. “It’s a good thing that vespers is several _hours_ away. That gives you lots of time to… do whatever it is you were doing.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the books and papers collected on the desk.

Aethas was clearly determined to make this as difficult as possible. _Light, help me,_ Arator thought. This mage was going to be the death of him.

Arator made a show of sitting down at the desk, the legs of the chair letting out an irritating shriek as they scraped against the stone floor when he pulled it out. “Thank you for understanding,” he said as he lowered himself into the chair, smiling up at Aethas.

The mage grinned, now leaning against the window casement with a smirk as he examined Arator. “You know,” he began again, trailing a finger over the page Arator had open in front of him, “prolonged concentration can wear down one’s mind.” Arator fought a growing smile as Aethas casually surveyed the desk. Still, he ignored him, removing his quill from the inkwell to scribble a note on a piece of parchment.

Aethas then leaned down, brushing a lock of hair out of Arator’s eyes and tucking it behind his ear. “Or _worse_ – it can cause migraines.”

He wasn’t sure what annoyed him more: the mage’s feigned concern over his mental state, or his own inability to concentrate whenever Aethas was near. Or far. Or anywhere in Azeroth, really; the truth was that Arator could hardly keep his thoughts from straying to the mage at any available opportunity.

Arator sighed, staring down at the tome open in front of him. The runes skittering across the page were little more than nonsense to him now.

Noting Arator’s frustration, Aethas batted his hand out of the way and held his own out over the shimmering runes. “You touch it like this,” he demonstrated, running a finger down the page and tapping briefly on a larger rune. “Then the spell settles and you can read what you were looking for.”

Remarkably, the runes stilled and arranged themselves into something more closely resembling a paragraph. “Thank you,” Arator said incredulously as he watched them settle.

Barely a minute passed before Aethas spoke again. “You know, poring over your mountain of books isn’t going to ease the migraine,” Aethas noted. “One might say that continuing your research could only make it _worse._ ” When Arator didn’t respond, the mage leaned down to hover just above his shoulder, close enough that it made Arator shift uncomfortably as Aethas leaned forward and made a show of peering at the pages open on the desk. “This looks terribly trivial,” he murmured, tossing a piece of parchment aside. His lips were level with Arator’s ear, and each word he uttered sent a shiver up the paladin’s spine. Arator hated himself for revelling in the way Aethas’ warm breath tickled his neck, and his breathing hitched as gasp slipped through his lips. That only seemed to encourage Aethas more – he began to casually fiddle with the locks of Arator’s hair, draped over his shoulder and tied loosely with a length of leather.

Arator heaved a sigh as he directed his eyes at the ceiling. “I can’t concentrate with you hovering like this,” he said.

Aethas grinned and leaned in for another kiss. “How unfortunate for you.” Then, “Do you want me to stop?”

Arator knew he only wanted to hear him to say it this time. “No,” he admitted, “but we’re in _public._ Someone could walk by at any moment.” He threw a glance over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t already being watched. Much to his dismay (or delight), the corridor was empty with not a soul in sight.

“I can be quiet,” Aethas murmured as he once again began kissing a trail down Arator’s neck. “Can you?”

Arator swore as the mage smoothed his hands over his chest before moving down his abdomen. “You know I can’t.”

“Then I’ll be quick.” In one swift movement, Aethas cleared all the paladin’s books and papers off the desk, and they clattered to the floor as the mage lifted him out of his chair and pinned him to the tabletop. Arator barely had time to react before Aethas’ hands were sliding up his thighs, lifting the hem of his robe as he teased him with a taste of his tongue.

Too caught up to protest any longer, Arator yielded to instinct and wrapped his legs around Aethas’ waist as he moaned into his mouth. When the mage broke the kiss to begin kissing a trail down Arator’s abdomen, Arator gripped a handful of his flaming hair and rolled his hips forward to indicate his need. In response, Aethas hooked his arms around Arator’s thighs and pulled him to the edge of the desk, grinning wolfishly as he pressed a kiss to the bulge straining against Arator’s pants. As Arator rolled his hips a second time, the mage made quick work of the lacings, easing his cock out of confinement with the paladin’s fingers pressed insistently against the back of his head.

Arator mumbled something – whether a prayer or a curse, he wasn’t sure, as he was quite beyond words at this point. Regardless, Aethas seemed to take it as encouragement and gently gripped Arator’s cock in his hand, smearing the evidence of his arousal with the pad of his thumb before leaning down to take him in his mouth.

The sensation – it was maddening, all of it, the heat of Aethas’ mouth and the wetness of his tongue, the softness of his lips as they slid along Arator’s length. Arator couldn’t suppress a quiver in his thighs as Aethas swallowed him down, teasing the underside of his cock with his tongue as he suckled gently. Arator whimpered, releasing Aethas’ hair only to clamp his hand over his own mouth and suppress a moan. He felt, more than he heard, the mage chuckle, and his cock throbbed as the sensation reverberated through his legs.

Aethas slid his lips up to the head of Arator’s cock, tongue swirling around the head before releasing him and offering him a few lazy strokes of his hand instead. Gasping, Arator fought to find something to grip with his free hand, eventually settling on the wrist Aethas had still hooked over his hip. He tried to communicate his want, his desperate _need_ , as his fingers dug into the flesh of Aethas’ wrist, earning him a smile before the mage parted his lips again and wrapped them around the head of his cock. Agonisingly slowly, he then slid down until his face pressed into the soft hair at the base, and it only took a few more flicks of Aethas’ talented tongue before Arator’s thighs tightened and he found his release, thrusting into Aethas’ mouth as he came, hot and thick, down the back of his throat.

For a moment, the world faded and narrowed to the sensation of Aethas’ tongue teasing the last of his climax out of him, and Arator fell limp, gasping. He was vaguely aware thereafter of Aethas tucking him back into his trousers and straightening the hem of his robe as he was lifted into a warm embrace. He buried his face in the elf’s neck, wrapping his arms around him with a contented sigh as he breathed in his scent and listened to the soothing cadence of his heartbeat.

“Would you like to see me later?” Aethas murmured, running a hand through Arator’s hair. “Say, maybe later this evening?”

Arator bit his lip to hide a growing smile. He nodded bashfully. “I can come by after conclave.”

His heart soared as Aethas grinned and pulled him into a lingering kiss. “Good,” said Aethas. “I’ll be waiting.”

Arator blushed and tucked a lock of stray hair behind his ear as Aethas withdrew. He glanced around him at all the ink, parchment, and books scattered over the floor. What a mess… though he had to admit it had absolutely been worth it.

“Don’t worry,” Aethas said, seemingly sensing Arator’s unease. With a snap of his fingers, the items flew back on to the desk, piled neatly beside where Arator was sitting. “Mages have many talents,” he said, grinning and sketching a bow before he turned to leave.

“Aethas,” Arator cried out, immediately embarrassed by how loud his voice sounded in the silence of the library.

“Hmm?” The mage’s eyes sparkled as he raised his eyebrows in a question.

“Thank – thank you,” Arator managed with a smile.

“You can thank me later,” he grinned, and disappeared back into the stacks, leaving Arator alone to bask in the afterglow.


End file.
